Learning to Cope
by eileenytheloony
Summary: A spell is cast, linking two people who can't stand each other. Now they have to deal with each other until the end of the year. Can they do it? Or will one of them have to die first? Join them as they learn not only to cope, but to love. SSHG
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: F-A-N-F-I-C-T-I-O-N. That spells out fun and no money changing hands. 

Author's Note: 

Ahh....another nice, long, annoying author's note! I wonder how many people skip these (I do, some times). 

Well, this is my second attempt at a fan fic. Tell me, at what point does an author stop counting? Don't be scared off by my lack of experience, I'm getting better, I swear. :) My first, The Will to Live, is set aside (but not abandoned) while I have some fun with a new story and try to figure out a way to fill in the plot holes I have unwittingly trapped myself in. 

Still here? Haven't clicked the forward button yet? Then let me tell you who I owe this story to....to be honest, I can't remember. I'm sure countless stories have influenced me past the point where I can pick each out. I know my story is similar to some stories where Severus and Hermione share thoughts. In my case, they share feelings. I wrote this story out of my firm belief that Dumbledore is a sneaky matchmaker! 

The story is intended to be as angst free as possible (boy and I thought I'd never get sick of that) with a dash of humor and romance thrown in. I will resist impulses to complicate the story too much, though I warn you now, the story is SS/HG and very likely to contain AU or OOC elements. Now, regret reading this? No? Yes? 

I'll shut up. Read the story and tell me what you love, hate, and everything else!

Eileen

  


~~~

  


Chapter 1

  
  


_Severus Snape_

The quill scratched delicately over the parchment, pausing to dip into a black inkwell. Beneath the name, the quill made a quick sketch, a quite accurate picture of the Potions Master taking form.

Straight black hair, minus the grease because ink couldn't convey the same shininess, framed an unpleasant face. The dark brows were furrowed over hawk-like eyes, glaring over a mountain of a nose, pointing haughtily skyward. The slash of a mouth was curved in a characteristic sneer. Billowing black robes and black boots combined to form the appearance of a bat. A looming bat. A sadistic, looming, _annoying _bat.

Setting the quill aside, a pair of slim, but strong hands held the parchment up. Then pressed downwards in one satisfying, long rip. Right down the middle of that sneering face. The hands proceeded to methodically shred the picture into infinite little bits, which fluttered in the air before settling on some unfortunate individuals. 

A certain boy, in the middle of a book on Quidditch, looked up, adjusting his crooked glasses over his green eyes. He swiped his messy black hair away, finding in the process that his hair had acquired some very large, paper-like dandruff. "Hermione," he said mildly, "I believe voodoo has been outlawed for oh, say, a hundred years?"

"Exactly one hundred and seventy-six years, my dear Harry," Hermione said sweetly, continuing her littering, "or else, that's exactly what I would be doing."

"You mean you don't count drawing a picture of someone and then destroying it some form of voodoo?"

"Of course not. I'm not actually hurting anyone…so let's call it anger management therapy."

"Oh bugger off," Ron muttered. "If she wants to waste perfectly good paper and her own precious time drawing that slimy git and cutting, ripping, picking holes, or burning it up, I have no objections."

They were in the Gryffindor common room, a suffocating mix of red and gold, and thankfully alone. Hermione was writing on a desk piled high with books. Only the top of her bent head could be seen. That, and the shower of paper still bursting upward like fireworks. Harry was lounging on the squashy red couch and continued to read his book. Ron was seated in front of the chessboard, playing against himself. He sat back and looked at the battlefield. Currently, the blacks were winning. He took the black queen. Not anymore. 

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun was shining brightly, without a cloud in the sky. Ron looked mournfully out the window then sneaked a glance at Hermione. The only thing souring the mood, his mood, was Hermione's insistence that they finish their Potions project. 

"I'm not," she had said with flashing eyes, "going to get another eighty just because some-some stupid, pig-headed snake finds some invisible flaws!"

Translation: I'm going to work my butt off to make sure it's so perfect that a microscope (some sort of Muggle technology) can't find a stray molecule and until it reaches my impossible standard, you and Harry aren't going to have any fun either. 

He heard Hermione's mumbling start again and caught a wisp of, "…and afterward I'll feed his dead, rotting corpse to the harpies…"

Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione was absolutely obsessed. He sighed. This was going to be a long day.

~~~

Harry and Ron just didn't understand, Hermione thought irritably. It's not just about some stupid project, or even grades! It was the principle of it. It's about this unfair, two-headed snake deliberately marking me down when I know I didn't do anything wrong. Oh, and let's not forget the hair trigger lectures and insults he hands you, not to mention detention, a small voice added sourly. 

All right, she could admit the detention might have been slightly her fault. Fine, so she had provoked him. He wouldn't even tell her what she had done to deserve an eighty. An eighty! No one had ever given Hermione anything less than a hundred percent because she always turned in a hundred and ten percent.

Her vision hazed red as she remembered their meeting…

~~~

"Yes, is there anything I can do for you, Miss Granger?" A faint smirk on his lips. That bastard. He knew exactly what she wanted.

She curbed the fury coursing through her. "I was just wondering, sir," she said carefully, "why you felt compelled to give me an eighty on my report." She held the twenty-page report out.

He took his time flipping through the pages, even pretending to read parts of it, just to annoy her, she was sure. Finally, he looked up. His face was calm and considering. He put the report down and folded his hands in his lap as he leaned back, the picture of relaxation. "It's very simple really," he said dryly. "Your report is…adequate. But lacking in depth or true thinking."

Fire blazed in her eyes. "Are you saying I copied from a book?"

"No, of course not, Miss Granger." The condescending voice grated on her nerves. "I was merely suggesting that next time you think before you write instead of gathering a bunch of resources and then compiling a long, impressive essay which shows nothing besides a gift for researching. That is what you did, am I right?"

She felt herself blushing but refused to back down. "I don't see why that deserves an eighty. My answers were right and my report complete and on time. I also know for a fact that Malfoy received a perfect mark on his report." That still burned in her gut. The Slytherin spoiled brat actually beating her? 

Now he was exasperated. "Miss Granger, did you not hear anything I said? When you turn in a report that actually shows some thinking then I will reconsider." He stood up. "And now, I will ask you to leave. I have work to do."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. He was dismissing her just like that? "Wait," she said determinedly, "I'm not done yet."

"_I _am." He brushed past her as he entered the lab.

But Hermione was not giving in without a fight. She grabbed his robe and gave a gasp as it tore in her grasp.

He glared at her. She glared back. "How dare you…" he whispered in a silky voice.

"Well, if you had only stopped when-"

"I told you to leave! But apparently you will not take no for an answer!" A sudden malicious smile spread over his lips. Hermione shivered. It did not make him look any less menacing. "Since that is the case, I'm sure you will enjoy your week of detention. Report here tomorrow at eight. Go now."

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She had reached the doorway when another silky whisper made her turn to face him. "And Miss Granger? Fifty points from Gryffindor."

~~~

It still stung when she thought of his words. And her own stupid actions. Without depth or thinking? Ha! She would bet that Malfoy didn't have either. Malfoy with his thugs and arrogance, with his Deatheater father and his perfect mark! She was not stupid enough to think that Snape was stupid though. No one who became a Potions Master and a spy against Voldemort was stupid. But they could be as pig-headed and bastard-like as the best of people. Or in this case, the worst.

"Hermionneeeeeee!" Ron whined, breaking into her thoughts. She blinked at the freckled and pale face, topped with red hair, which suddenly registered in her brain. And the hand that was waving in her face.

"What?" she snapped.

"Just thought you might want to know it's time for dinner."

"Okay, I'm coming." She slammed her book shut.

_Adequate, my arse!_

~~~

The clock struck eight. Harry glanced up startled. "Hermione!" he called across the common room. "You're going to be late!"

Hermione's head snapped up and her face paled. She snarled at him, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Hey! You should be glad I even-" The loud crash as the door closed interrupted his indignant speech. "I even told you." He finished lamely.

"Don't mind her," Ron said cheerfully. "She's just PMSy."

He stared at Ron incredulously. "Who wouldn't be if they had detention with Snape?"

Ron made a face. "Oh yeah…I remember the time he made us scrub the dungeon floor with tooth brushes. After the _accidental_ spill Malfoy had. That was what…in fifth year?"

"Last year, Ron, last year."

"Oh yes. How could I ever forget?"

~~~

Revised 12/18/2003 in accordance to ff.net's new policy regarding author notes.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

  
  


Hermione raced down the halls, leaping casually over the shifting staircases. After almost seven years at Hogwarts, she had become an expert on navigating its grounds. Though she did occasionally, still get lost. And at the most unfortunate times.

"Oh Merlin! Please, please tell me I didn't just discover a new wing of Hogwarts!" Hermione moaned as she suddenly fell into a new corridor. "Damn it, damn it!" She checked her watch. It was hopeless. She was already ten minutes late. 

She glared at the ceiling, wondering how on earth she was supposed to climb back up. Evidently, she wasn't, because a staircase suddenly caught her eye. She ran towards it.

~~~

Severus Snape smiled grimly as his pocket watch ticked off the seconds. Hermione Granger was now late for his detention. He flicked the gold cover closed and put it back in his pocket. He was looking forward to doubling her detention.

Fifteen minutes passed before Hermione suddenly rushed in. "I'm sorry sir, I got lost-"

"Spare me your excuses," he told her coldly. "Next time I want you on time. And your detention is now doubled."

~~~

Hermione closed the door gently behind her, as she resisted the urge to slam it and scream the walls down. How dare that man! She stomped back to the common room, primed for any provocation. She glared murderously at Ron and Harry, both of them engaged in an animated discussion with Lavender and Parvati. They didn't even notice her but continued to giggle among themselves. The thundercloud over her head darkened and she retreated to her room before she started to throw the lightning bolts. 

She flopped onto her bed, burying her face in the thick covers. The velvety softness more than made up for the fact that they were, unfortunately, red. She rolled over, staring at the canopied roof. The same sickening shade of red met her eyes. It wasn't fair of her to take her anger out on those around her; she knew that. It was just very, very hard not to. Especially when it beat the only other option, going mad. Or, she tapped her chin thoughtfully, murder. Now there was a thought to savor.

She sat up with a smile. Which immediately turned into a frown as she surveyed her room. With a flick of her wand and a muttered transforming spell, the room's décor turned green and silver. "Finally," she sighed. "Anything but red!"

It wasn't as though she had any roommates to consult (one of the perks of being Head Girl) and she was really sick of crimson, scarlet, and every other shade of red. The gold wasn't too bad…but even that wore on the nerves after a while. And, she grinned evilly, Professor Snape would have a fit if he saw (which he never would) her lounging around in his House colors. 

~~~ 

"Did you see that look she gave us?" Ron whispered furtively as soon as Hermione was out of sight. "She looked like she was going to bite our heads off!" 

"Oh," Harry said dryly. "So that was the ominous presence I was feeling. No wonder I have goosebumps."

"Poor Hermione," Lavender sighed dramatically. "I know I would die if Professor Snape ever gave me detention."

"Don't worry," Parvati giggled. "He's not likely to bother any of us."

"Speak for yourself," Harry said gloomily.

After a moment, "Why, she is right!" Ron exclaimed. "Think about it…when was the last time Snape yelled at you? Or made some snide comment? In fact, I don't think he's paid you any attention, other than the occasional side long look, for a few weeks!"

"Now that you mention it…" Harry said slowly.

Ron nodded vigorously. "Hermione's his new victim."

"Well, is there anything we can do to help her?"

"Yes. Stay out of her way."

~~~ 

The morning was bright and shining, full of promise for a beautiful day. It was a pity their first class was Potions. Double Potions. With Slytherin. Hermione sighed, her arms weighed down with books, her heart heavy with dread, and her feet like leaden bricks. She trudged slowly after Ron and Harry, her brow furrowed in a straight line. She could only be glad they were subduing their cheerfulness for her benefit. They glanced anxiously at her until she snapped, "Is there something wrong?"

"Well, the thing is, Hermione, we're worried about you," Harry said sincerely.

"You can stop then. I'm fine." She knew she sounded surly and ungrateful, but she couldn't stop herself. "It's only thirteen days more. I can make it."

"But Hermione-what if it doesn't end?"

"Then there's still only a year left," she said stubbornly. "Once I graduate, you can be sure I won't ever speak a word, voluntarily, to that bat." The insult rolled easily off her tongue, and she spat it like venom.

"Indeed, Miss Granger, you can be sure I'll return the favor." The sudden interruption had them all jumping. "Meanwhile, I believe we still have class?"

They nodded and scurried to their seats while Professor Snape combed through the crowd with a glint in his eye. "You!" he called, pointing at Neville. "And you, Miss Granger," he said turning to her, "are going to be our test subjects today. For love potions." He gave her nasty smile as the Slytherins exchanged amused looks and the Gryffindors pitying ones. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

While the class mixed their own love potions, he supervised Hermione and Neville's brew. "Not so fine," he said to Hermione. "We wouldn't want to have the potency reduced too fast, would we?"

She ground her teeth. "No, of course not." 

Neville gave her a sympathetic look. For once, he was not the object of Snape's scrutiny and had been assigned the role of bystander. He stood watching as Hermione mixed the last of the ingredients and then waited for Snape's approval. He took his time, as he sniffed it and examined the color, transparent so that it could be slipped into food and drink. At last, he gave a nod. "It will do."

"Breathe," Hermione told herself. "Breathe." Her hands clenched at her sides. She felt an overwhelming urge to hit something, no, someone. The violent reaction shocked her. She'd never been one to strike out with fists, most of the time she enjoyed crushing them beneath her superior brain and irrefutable logic. In this case, she admitted to herself, she had little chance of winning with either brains or brawn. But that didn't mean she intended to give up. 

She forced herself to smile reassuringly at Neville, and watched his concern melt away. She took half the mixture and gave the other half to Neville. "Cheers," she said, and downed the glass. 

It had no taste, but she still had the unpleasant sensation of something vile slithering down her throat. From the corner of her eye, she saw that most of the class had stopped their work to watch their reaction. She felt nothing at first, except for a slight queasiness. Then she felt a warm wave of blood wash through her body, all the way from the tips of her toes to her ears. A blush, she was sure, had appeared on her face, along with a goofy smile. She stared dreamily at Neville, noting that he too was having the same reaction. She could sense nothing in the world but him. His thin, pale body suddenly became most attractive to her. And his face. She had never seen one more handsome, so adorable, or so attractive to her. There was one lock of hair that curled over his forehead, she felt compelled to brush it away. She sighed, unaware that they were drifting closer to each other. She wanted to kiss him so badly. They were an inch apart. Their lips almost touched.

"That's enough of a demonstration, Miss Granger, Mr. Longbottom." The sharp voice broke into both of their consciousnesses and they broke apart, both blushing furiously. 

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to…" His voice trailed off and he looked at the ground miserably. 

"It's all right," she said awkwardly. "It was the potion."

Professor Snape took the opportunity to interrupt. For the first time, Hermione was grateful for it. "Well, as we can see, the potion did work." He smirked. "A little too well."

The Slytherins laughed loudly and to her anger, some of the Gryffindors as well. "Now, clean up. The potions you have made will be stored in the cabinet to the right. Fortunately, the rest of you don't have to test yours."

The bell rung and Hermione hurried to catch up with Harry and Ron. They made appropriate responses with the right amount of anger and indignation and soothed Hermione's bruised pride. "It was so unfair!" she fumed. "No one else had to try theirs! He picked us deliberately! And the worst part; he made out do it in front of the whole class! The Slytherins are going to have a ball game with this; the whole school will know!"

"And he said 'it will do', as if it was anything less than perfect!" Ron agreed.

"And then the things he said…" Harry shook his head. "I would say typical, except they were such low hits. It's not like you could help any of it."

"But he could! He did it on purpose!" Fire burned in her eyes. "Well, let's see how he likes a taste of his own medicine."

"Hermione?" Harry did not like the sound of this. Wasn't Hermione supposed to be the one talking them out of trouble, not in it?

"Come on, guys, we have a job to do!"

~~~

Revised 10/25/2003 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

  
  


Definitely not a good idea, Harry thought again as they crept around in the Potions classroom. 

"Here," Hermione whispered as she lifted a bottle of love potion, "that ought to do the trick."

"Whose is it?" Ron asked warily.

"Doesn't matter." Hermione grinned. "The incorrectly mixed love potion also has…unpleasant results."

"When do we give it to him? And who do give the other half to?" Harry asked curiously.

"Dinner time," Hermione said definitely. "And I know the perfect candidate." This time her smile was positively fiendish.

~~~ 

Severus Snape hated meal times. With a vengeance. Especially as he always managed to get stuck sitting right next to the most annoying chatterbox, who sprouted absolute nonsense and tried to convince him she had seen his future. Which, apparently, included her.

"The tea leaves were shaped in a heart," Sibyll Trelawney lowered her curled lashes flirtatiously, "it means that soon a great love will appear before your eyes."

He shrugged off her wandering hand. "I hardly think anyone would be suicidal enough."

Instead of warning her off, she only gave a girlish laugh, grabbed his hand, and said, "Oh Sevie, you are soooo adorable!"

He winced. Sevie. The name churned his stomach. Suddenly he felt quite sick and feverish. He must be coming down with something. He looked at Sibyll, who had gravitated toward him again. Except this time, instead of being repulsed, he had to fight the urge to gather her closer. The scent of her, sandal wood incense and lavender, intoxicated him. Her eyes, which a glamour spell had turned a pale purple, seemed to draw him in. His hand closed around hers still in his grasp. He lowered his lips to hers. 

"Severus," Dumbledore interjected loudly, "I need to speak with you, please come to my office."

He blinked as he came back to himself. What? His eyes narrowed. Oh, those Gryffindors were in for it now. He would have marched straight to them and grabbed their throats if Albus, his eyes twinkling, hadn't claimed his arm and steered him away. "My dear Severus," he began, "there seems to be...quite an attraction between you and Sibyll."

He glared at the Headmaster. "One more word Albus, and I swear I will blast the glasses off your nose!"

"Violent, violent," Dumbledore said, and then had the nerve to chuckle.

~~~ 

Dumbledore's office, while not formidable by any means, nonetheless inspired the proper amount of respect to authority. The cushy chairs were arranged comfortably around the crackling fireplace and opposite of his desk. Curving bookshelves surrounded the walls, creating a distinct impression that they were going to topple any second. Hermione, seated in front of Dumbledore and next to Professor Snape, was feeling claustrophobic. 

She sat nervously in the chair while Severus Snape glared at her and Albus Dumbledore smiled kindly, his face full of mirth and suppressed humor. 

"Hermione," Dumbledore said, "you know why you're here."

She saw no reason to deny it. "Yes sir."

"Do you know that it's strictly against school regulations for students to slip unidentified substances into a teacher's food or drink?"

"Yes, I do."

"Good, good." He smiled as if she had given him the secret of avoiding nasty- tasting Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "I don't suppose you'll tell me why you did so then?"

She lifted her gaze defiantly. "I thought it only fair that Professor Snape suffered the same humiliation I did."

"Girl," Snape growled, but was cut off by Dumbledore. "I couldn't agree more."

Both student and teacher gaped at him. He smiled. "Lemon drop?"

They both refused. "But Albus," Severus protested.

"No buts, young man," Dumbledore told him, "that young lady is perfectly right. You both need to understand each other a bit more. After all," he winked at Hermione, "you both cause each other no end of grief. It has to stop. And I know just the solution." He waved his wand over their heads and a smoky red halo appeared above them.

"Feelings shared, hearts entwined. Sadness and pain, happiness and fun, may they all be one."

With that, the circle lowered over both of them and tightened. Her head pounded fiercely as she felt something being squeezed alongside her brain. It faded away and she was left with the disorientating feeling of another person's emotions. Confusion, pain, frustration, anger; all of which she could sympathize with. She looked at Snape, he didn't seem to be faring much better than her. His eyes were still shut tight and he was massaging the base of his skull with one hand and his temple with the other. "Well, Albus, I hope you're happy now. What exactly did you do?"

Dumbledore looked surprised. "I would have thought it was obvious enough what I did."

"I can guess," Severus said sourly. "But I want to hear it from you."

Hermione watched the two of the suspiciously, her own logical brain on the verge of a breakthrough. "Oh my God!" she said weakly as the puzzle pieces matched up. 

"I see Miss Granger has also figured it out." The Potions Master said scornfully. Hermione ignored the tone and found to her amazement that he wasn't as scornful as he pretended to be. The bundle of feelings that was him in her head said quite the opposite. Now mixed in with the chaotic mix was a hint of admiration and reluctant acknowledgement. "Well, now," he drawled as he sensed her bubble of amusement, "Don't get too happy over this situation. Don't forget that while you can feel what I feel, I can do the same." He laughed humorlessly as her face darkened at the thought. "Yes, I feel the same. Albus, you can't mean to leave us like this!"

"Oh, I don't intend to."

"Good." Relief on both sides.

"I take the spell off at the end of this year."

"What?" They shouted in outrage.

"I trust that should be enough time to cure our problem. But if it's not…"

"Albus," he said warningly, "if you don't take that spell off right now…"

"I'm afraid I can't," he said blithely, seemingly oblivious to the dismayed expressions on both their faces. "I specified that only at the end of this year can it be removed."

They saw that it was useless to argue with him. Hermione, her mind clicking away, was determined she would not wait until the end of the year. She was already mentally going through the reference books in the library, trying to decide which ones would help her come up with a counter spell. Severus, likewise, was also busy trying to identify Dumbledore's spell and devising several murderous plans. There was a thoughtful silence as all of them were lost in their own thoughts. 

"Well," Dumbledore spoke, "it's almost time for your detention. And may I remind you both," That infuriating smile again. "Murder and suicide are not feasible courses of action."

They glowered at him. "You're not going to get away with this," Severus said.

"I already have." 

~~~ 

Revised 10/25/2003


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

  
  


The awkwardness hung in the air between them, tension strung tight. Added to that was the uncomfortable awareness of the other's discomfort. It was strange, to say the least. Neither of them knew how to handle their unique situation. 

"Well," he took charge in a brisk manner, "I suppose there's no use in continuing our detention today. You will not speak to anyone on this subject; with luck, we can just go on with our lives and ignore this…thing."

"I disagree, Professor," she said quietly. "I find it highly uncomfortable to share such intimate feelings with another."

"As if I wanted to share mine! And with a student, no less! But what would you have us do about it?" He swept around the Potions classroom. 

"There should be a counter spell somewhere-"

"Right," he said sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that? We'll just pop into the library and find it in a book."

"But if he used-"

"You don't know Dumbledore like I know him. That sneaky wizard never did anything without planning and plotting everything through. It would probably take more time to find the solution than to wait it out. Why bother? And say we did break the spell. Do you want to find out what other tricks he has up his sleeve?" He shuddered. "I can't imagine anything worse, but there must be."

Hermione mulled over his words. They made sense, in a twisted, cynical way. Reluctantly, she agreed, though it went again her nature to sit idly on a problem. "So what do we do?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We will both treat each other exactly the same as always." He gave her a sharp look. "So don't expect any special treatment, Miss Granger."

Her spine stiffened at the insult and her words were ice tipped when she spoke. "I wouldn't dream of anything otherwise."

"Good, you may leave now."

~~~

The door shut behind her, so carefully he knew she must be resisting the temptation to slam it. That girl had a hell of a temper. He massaged his temple, feeling the flame of it burning in his head, rivaling with twin feelings of relief and embarrassment. He recalled his close encounter with Sibyll and almost lost his dinner. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

~~~ 

She didn't know who to curse more. Dumbledore, for casting that ridiculous spell on them, Snape, for being the bastard he was, or herself. For being the most foolish of all. If only she hadn't been so stupid as to give in to her desire for revenge. In front of Dumbledore of all people! She made a face. He would probably know about it even if she hadn't. 

But oh! It had been almost worth it! To see the look of surprise wash over his face before he realized what happened, then to watch his potentially embarrassing affectionate display with the Divination teacher. Who, everyone knew, loved to flirt with the unresponsive Potions teacher. Harry, Ron, and herself had been waiting for the moment after he had taken the first love potion laced sip. How they had ever gotten it into the teachers' cups she would never know. 

"It's a secret," Ron had said, his chest puffing out proudly. "One my brothers taught me how to pull off."

Try as she might, she couldn't figure out the trick. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that he smelled of dead fish and incense. Though she wouldn't put it past them to simply give it to Trelawney and leave her to figure out the rest. Suddenly, she felt nauseas and almost panicked. Oh no, had she swallowed more love potion? But then she found that it wasn't her own stomach rolling and pitching; the source was from Snape. She sighed. This was getting to be rather annoying. She prodded at the ball of sensations in her head cautiously. It seemed as though if only feelings, those associated with physical sensations or emotions, came through.

She refused to feel sorry for him, though she felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that she might have caused his illness. She wondered what he was thinking at the moment. She wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. Should she be glad that she was spared from every snarky thing he thought, but managed to restrain from voicing? On the other hand, it would be a major advantage to get into Snape's mind. Imagine the possibilities…Blackmail came immediately to mind. It was probably a good thing then. If she could read his mind, she would be all too tempted to misuse it. She gave a small sigh of regret.

~~~ 

It had been a week since the Incident. True to his word, Professor Snape did not treat her any differently. The only noticeable difference being that he spent as little time with her as possible, even as he passed out his usual insults. She was pleased to see that her extra effort (extra, extra, in her case) had paid off. Her latest score, though not up to her usual standards, had not hit the all-time-low of eighty again.

She had half-heartedly searched through the Library for a counter spell, knowing that it was probably a waste of time, yet unable to help herself. As Professor Snape had predicted, there was no mention of such a spell in the standard textbooks, nor in any of the ancient tomes or those that dealt with darker spells. She did find several similar spells dealing with mind reading and sharing thoughts, but none for sharing feelings. For one thing, it was a pretty useless spell to cast on anyone. It could be used to monitor the emotional and physical conditions of patients, but not to explain why and how someone was feeling pain. With reluctance, she had finally closed the last book and conceded that nothing else could be done. 

Hermione had decided to confide in Harry and Ron, in spite of the warning to stay silent. She figured they deserved to know why their lives were going to be Hell for the next few months. They had goggled, shell-shocked, until Ron had finally spat out, "Bloody buggering bats! To be connected to that-that...Merlin, nothing could be worse! Can you imagine having those slimy feelings inside of you? And Professor Dumbledore! I thought he was on our side!" He had continued to rant and rave, as if he were the one so punished. 

"Thank you, Ron," she had said dryly. "That makes me feel so much better. It's not like it's you who's stuck in this situation." 

"But," reminded Harry, "if you'll remember, it was you who wanted to get back at Snape. Not us." That had been the end of their conversation, for they had been interrupted by the noise of their Housemates trouping in.

~~~

To their mutual horror, it was discovered that every little thing they felt was passed on to the other person... 

Hermione was feeling extremely uncomfortable. She sighed and shifted in her chair. Having a period was the worst thing about being a female as far as she was concerned. Another cramp plagued her, her internal muscles squeezing into knots. She hunched forward a little, trying to ease the aching soreness, and hoped the Potions teacher wouldn't notice. She bit her lip and seriously considered downing a potion to relieve the cramps. Usually she didn't need one and so didn't have any on hand, but she could always ask Madame Pomfrey. To even be considering dropping by after Potions was a testimony to the pain she was in. Normally, Hermione only took medication as a last resort. 

Grimly, she gritted her teeth, dismissing the momentarily weakness. She spent the rest of the class distracted, anticipating the moment she could escape to her bed, and from there, to obliviousness. 

"Class dismissed." 

She gathered her books thankfully, wishing she could rush out of the classroom, but knowing that could probably result in a much undesired flood. Instead, she stood slowly and walked deliberately to the door, hoping against hope that he wouldn't say anything. 

"Miss Granger."

She squeezed her eyes shut for just a second. "Yes?"

"I think you need this." 

She took the potion, knowing without even looking what it was. Not trusting her voice, she gave a nod of thanks, and fled.

Tactfully, neither mentioned it, though each did occasionally question the reason Severus had given her the potion. The following weeks provided even more unpleasant revelations. 

Severus found, to his eternal frustration, that some of his more cutting remarks lost their edge due to the fact that Hermione now knew exactly what he was, and wasn't feeling.

"Gryffindor Know-It-All."

She actually smiled. And was pleased at what had sounded, for all purposes, like an insult. Maybe he hadn't meant it as one, but she wasn't supposed to know that. 

Hermione, on the other hand, found it extremely annoying that she could no longer hide her irritation. Not that she'd been trying too hard before to. 

"Perfect." Severus put down Malfoy's potion. "Now if only everyone else could manage it."

Of course, Hermione thought to herself, even if others did manage perfection, he wouldn't acknowledge it. As if he could read her mind, he added, "No need to be jealous, Miss Granger."

Not that these in itself were very embarrassing, or cause for much horror. But when combined with the sudden acknowledgement that you had no privacy whatsoever, that everything you felt was subject to another's scrutiny, it was enough shrivel even the smallest of pleasures. For a time, both tried to block out the other and to keep their own feelings secret. This proved near impossible, and before long, both had given up the tiring, and useless, effort of trying. The very weaknesses they had feared to show soon became the ultimate weapons. 

~~~ 

Revised 10/25/2003


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

  
  


"I see you've recovered from your infatuation with your partner." It had become somewhat of a sore point for the two of them.

"And I see you've gotten over yours as well," was her reply. She relished his slight wince and the flash of anger he felt. She couldn't resist needling him a bit more. "Though everyone thinks it was such a shame; you would have made the cutest couple!" 

More like the funniest. She hid a smile, knowing he would feel her amusement anyway. The entire school had enjoyed the benefits of Hermione's revenge. It was still the hottest topic in the common rooms of all four Houses. In the mist of the speculation of exactly why Snape had acted so (for no others knew of the love potion) and the parodies taking place, most of the attention had been deflected from Hermione and Neville. Though some, like Malfoy and a certain Professor, stabbed at it with every opportunity. 

He scowled and turned away, felt his ears turn red, and only became more infuriated. The whole world seemed to be laughing at him. He had taken to avoiding meal times and the staffroom, partly to avoid the inane comments that eventually were directed to him, but mostly to avoid Sibyll. She had taken it as a sign he returned her affections and would not be convinced of anything else. He fumed silently, feeling Hermione's amusement as clear as if she had laughed aloud. Perversely, he wished she would, just so he would have the pleasure of deducting some points.

And so it came to be that the enemies were more hateful than before, tormenting each other, and themselves, would they but realize it, by attacking the weak points they were now acquainted with. They observed closely for the little things that provoked the strongest reactions in their victim, and thereafter derived the greatest pleasure in repeating the experience.

But as the days and weeks went by, they gradually developed control over the bond, eventually managing to shield out most of the more day-to-day sensations of hunger, thirst, and the more embarrassing kinds of sensations. After that, life went on as usual, with only the occasional flicker from the other side, which satisfied both of them immensely. They still enjoyed needling each other, even more so now that the ax hanging over their head had diminished in size.

~~~ 

Dumbledore, alone in his study, was deep in thought. He was not one to admit that he had failed, even when it was looking him in the face. He tapped his wand against the table impatiently, as some might do with a pen or quill. Tap, tap, tap. It disturbed him that his plan had backfired. With his other hand, he alternately tugged at his long beard and scratched at one of his bald spots. Not only had they failed to understand each other, they were now using the spell as their means of entertainment! The tapping increased in tempo. Not that he had a problem with them entertaining themselves with it… indeed, he had hoped for it. Just not in the way they were using it. He sighed. The tapping and pulling stopped. Time for Plan B.

~~~ 

"Hermione?" 

She stopped, a little warily. "Yes, Professor?"

"I wonder if you would mind patrolling the Astronomy Tower this evening. I seem to have the flu." He gave a feeble cough. 

"You should go to-" Instantly, concern crossed her features.

"Nothing serious," he hastened to add. "But I would be grateful all the same."

"Of course, I would be happy to," Hermione reassured him. 

~~~

"Severus?"

He turned. Glared. "What now?"

"I wonder if you would mind patrolling the Astronomy Tower this evening. I seem to have the flu." He gave a feeble cough, and then added a passable sniffle.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Really. I have just the thing. If you would come down to my office-"

"Oh no," he said quickly. "That won't be necessary; I'll just get some medicine from Poppy. I'll be as good as new in the morning." He laughed heartily. "But meanwhile…" He gave Severus a significant look.

"Oh very well," he accepted ungraciously. "But only today."

"Thank you, Severus. I knew I could count on you."

~~~ 

Patrolling the grounds was not his ideal of fun. No matter how many students (and teachers) thought it he enjoyed finding couples in comprising positions and troublemakers he could shout at and deduct points from, he did not. Perhaps this very loathing of the chore contributed to his heavy punishments and the scowl that always accompanied them. This particular evening, his mood was darker than usual, and he almost hoped some foolish youngster would be lurking around the Astronomy Tower. 

He caught sight of a flicker of a shadow. "Who's there?" he barked, drawing his wand. It never hurt to be safe.

He felt a little afraid and then apprehensive. What in Merlin's name? He frowned. "You can come out, Miss Granger."

Slowly, she slipped into view, sliding around the edges as if he was a known carrier of rabies. He saw her wand was out as well and sniffed in satisfaction. Good, at least she wasn't careless or fearless. "What are you doing here?"

He saw her visibly stiffen at being questioned so. "Didn't Professor Dumbledore tell you? I'm to patrol this area, he's ill."

For a moment he was confused. "He did? But he told me-" Well, she couldn't be lying about such a thing, even if she was up to mischief. What if he asked Albus about it later? And he could sense, through her body language and the link, that she wasn't lying. If Albus had asked her to patrol the area…then why had he also asked him? Severus had a bad feeling about the whole situation. "Well, as you can see, I'm here now, so you can go back." For some reason, he was reluctant, though he really wanted to, to dump the chore on her.

She nodded, for once, not bothering to argue. But just as she turned to leave, the clock struck twelve. And the world came crashing down.

~~~

At least, Hemione pondered a few minutes later clutching her aching head, it had felt like it. She stood up, a little dizzily and surveyed her surroundings. Blinked once, then twice. "Oh my God," she said rubbing her eyes. "Is this place for real?"

A neon pink sign flashed and caught her eye. Somehow, she had suddenly appeared in, she checked the sign again. Yes, Pink Paradise. If pink was paradise then she was certainly in the right place. The area she was standing in was entirely pink. The thick carpeting was baby pink, the walls another shade of darker pink, and the couch! The couch was a humungous (need I say?) pink heart. Even the fish, swimming in their pink tinted aquarium, were pink. They turned to her as one; their empty eyes staring at her. Unnerved, she turned away to examine the curtains. She pulled one away cautiously, almost afraid to look outside. To her surprise, she found that scenery was not; as she had half expected, pink. Thankfully, whatever had happened, she was still on planet Earth. She let the curtain go, relieved. Until…she pulled the curtain back again. Was that?

Three furry faces peered at her through the glass, pressing its tiny muzzles flat. Bright, curious eyes met her own. It wagged its three tails in greeting then jumped up, leaning its four forepaws against the window. Three tongues lolled out and one head gave a cheerful bark. Hermione smiled, it was impossible not to. It reminded her of Fluffy, the three-headed dog that had guarded the Philosopher's Stone. Except this was obviously a puppy and had more arms and legs. She pressed her own face against the glass and grinned. The heads cocked to the side and looked at her, then at each other. Finally, they copied her. Three mouths full of wickedly long teeth, dripping saliva, were bared in a parody of her smile while the tails kept wagging. Shaken, she stepped back, letting the curtain flutter back in place.

A groan behind her had her spinning to face Professor Snape. He was flat on his back, like she had found herself. He struggled to sit up then sank back down again, defeated. "Don't worry," she hurriedly knelt beside him, "it will pass in a few minutes."

He groaned again, his eyes blinking furiously. "Where are we?"

Hermione sat back on her heels. "Actually, I was hoping you could answer that question." She shrugged. "It's called 'Pink Paradise', if that helps."

"Yes. I can see why." He glared at the room. "Of all colors, he just has to pick this one." 

"He?" She pounced on the word. "What he? How do you know it's a he? You know him?"

"Well, since I happen to have a good guess who sent us to this pink hell." He stood up. "And believe me, when we get back, that old man is going to get a taste of his own medicine."

"You don't mean…" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Not the same person who-"

"Put the spell on us? Why not? He made some phony excuse and had us meet in the same place, where he set a trap to go off at midnight. Why else do you think we 'happened' to be both patrolling the Astronomy Tower on his watch?"

"But why does he keep doing these things? To torture us?" she cried in frustration.

"More precisely, to torture me," he replied grimly. "Albus has some sort of skewed notion in his head that I need a social life. Specifically, a love life. He's been trying for many years to set me up with blind dates, single women, and…you get the idea. And he will not take a hint. I almost thought he had given up, but apparently he has not. But why he thinks I would ever have an interest in a student is beyond me."

Hermione bristled at the subtle, or maybe unsubtle, snub. "Indeed. Why he would think we would get along is also a mystery to me."

He ignored her comment and drew his wand. "I don't suppose you've tried Apparating back to Hogwarts yet?"

"In case you've forgotten, students who haven't taken the tests yet aren't allowed to Apparate. No, I haven't."

"In that case…" He didn't look pleased at the thought. "You'll have to Apparate with me."

"No thanks." She drew her wand. "That's not necessary."

"Didn't you just remind me that students can't Apparate?"

"No, I said they're not allowed to. I never said they don't know how or don't."

He stared at her a moment. "Point taken. Shall we go now?"

She nodded, glad of any chance to be as far away from Pink Paradise as possible.

The unfamiliar sensation of Apparating surrounded her. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't comfortable either. She would die before she admitted it to Snape, but she had never Apparated before. She was terrified of Splinching herself, though she was confident of her theoretical knowledge of Apparating. She felt the buzz along her skin and the slight whooshing sensation of traveling through air, though she was still standing in the same place. Suddenly, it stopped. The buzzing disappeared and she was back to normal, just standing in a pink room.

"Bloody Hell." She heard him curse beside her. He stomped around muttering to himself, waving his wand in gestures she recognized as the beginnings of several anti-Apparating charm detectors. "It's no use. He's locked this place." He scowled deeper. "Wherever this place is." Without another word to her, he yanked open the doors connecting to Pink Paradise. 

"What are you doing?"

"Checking for fireplaces, though it probably wouldn't be any use anyway," he concluded as he opened the last door. He stared at the room in disgust. "That man has no taste at all. So what if it's all the same color? That doesn't mean it matches!"

"Ah…So now I know who to blame for the overuse of House colors," she said dryly, almost to herself.

Surprisingly, she heard an answering snort. "Yes, silver and green are my least favorite colors now, though red and gold come in a close second."

She smiled. "I happen to like silver and green."

She thought she saw him almost smile. For a moment, they hovered on the brink of understanding. Then he took a small step away from her, and a big step away emotionally, turning abruptly and saying with his usual acidity, "Oh really. Well, however much fun we may have discussing what colors we like and dislike, I would prefer to do it elsewhere." 

With an almost audible snap, Hermione came back to herself. What did she think she was doing? Actually having a discussion of favorite colors with Snape? It was the pink getting to her. 

~~~ 

Revised 10/25/2003


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

****

****

They weren't getting anywhere, he admitted to himself. If they couldn't do anything about the other spell, why should they be able to escape this one? He wasn't sure which he found more intolerable, any connection at all with Granger, or being stuck in Pink Paradise. But he knew that having both topped the list.

He sneaked a glance at her. She was kneeling on the thick carpet, surrounded by a sea of pink, and examining a pink crystal, all the while seemingly calm and unconcerned. If he hadn't felt the fear and anxiety radiating off her, he would never have known any differently.

He couldn't say he was handling the situation much better. He was at a lost on how to continue. They obviously were stuck for the mean time, damn that interfering old man, with no idea when they might be sent back. While he knew they should be trying to adjust and make the most of the ridiculous situation, some part of him held stubbornly back and refused to cooperate. That part could just not accept that he had been tossed in Albus' own private torture house and left hanging, helpless. It also told him he'd be damned if he'd just sit back and fall into Dumbledore's plans. However, none of those perfectly rational and justified feelings would help them now.

He looked at Hermione again, who seemed to be doing her best to ignore him. With an inward groan, he reminded himself, "You're the professor. Take charge of the situation." Outwardly, he said, "What are you doing?"

He saw her freeze, and expected a blistering reply. But she only said, "Looking for a port key. I think that's what got us here in the first place. He probably set it to go off at midnight, the time he arranged for both of us to be there."

He raised a brow. "Impressive reasoning, Miss Granger." He meant it. Not everyone could put their fear behind them and concentrate on the solving the problem.

* * *

She tensed automatically, prepared to rise to the bait. Then she saw that he did mean it, and deflated. She only shrugged in responsive, aware of her burning embarrassment. It surprised her that his acknowledgement could tease such a response out of her. Perhaps she was so used to his belittling and ignoring all her accomplishments, feats that were greater than a simple deduction, that she was baffled he would suddenly start to notice. Some of the anger and resentment she had built up against him began to melt, though it was by no means gone. She turned back to the crystal she was worrying in her hand. There was an awkward silence. She searched for something to break it, but couldn't think of anything short of the obvious that she could say. Finally, she remembered her brief encounter with the three-headed creature. "I think we're still in this world, the wizarding world, I mean."

She described the creature she'd seen. "I think it's there to keep us in, though I can't be sure of that. It's certainly more plausible that he would simply send us to a remote area than another universe."

"Check for a clock." he suddenly said, already on his feet.

"What for?" she asked, totally mystified by his abrupt change in subject.

"To confirm your theory. If we find one, a working one, we at least safely assume we're still in a 'real' world and not another dimension."

They found one in the blue room, steadily ticking away. The time on it read three o'clock in the afternoon. She started a little. They must have been knocked out for a long time, almost fifteen hours!

"Let's try to get out the door," she said impulsively, eager to prove more.

"Not so fast." He caught her arm when she would have gone rushing off. "First let's test the amount of magic we can use here. We already know Apparating and Flooing are out of the question. Let's try some other spells. If there are dangerous creatures out there, we don't want to be caught unprepared."

Hermione agreed and thought for a second. "Lumos." She waited expectantly for the ball of light to appear on the end of her wand. It did, but only for a moment before it flickered out. She frowned and tried again with the same results. Next, she tried a Levitating spell, which also failed in the middle.

"It appears that magic is out too." She lowered her wand, defeated. "What happened to your Anti-Apparating charm detectors?"

"The same," he admitted.

"I don't believe this!" She jerked away from him, control snapping, to stomping to the door. She wrenched it open, practically daring him or anyone else to stop her.

"What are you doing?" he asked calmly.

"I'm opening the door," she answered sarcastically. "If you mean what I'm going to do, I'm going to find a way to get out of here."

"Fine. I'll be here when you come back." With those parting words, he turned his back, strolling back to the blue room.

Hermione stared after him, her mouth open in disbelief. He wasn't going to try and stop her? She shut it with a snap, lifting her chin a fraction higher. Well, so be it. She stepped out into the bright sunshine, wincing a little at the glare. The wind blew the long grass around her legs, swirling her loose robes around her calves. In the distance, she could hear the gentle twittering of birds. She started out, intent on finding the nearest point of civilization.

* * *

After several hours, she began to feel like something was wrong. No matter how far she walked, the house remained in her sight. She felt like the house was secretly following her. Creeped out, she shivered, suddenly noticing that the sky was beginning to darken, and not just because it was late. A fat rain drop splashed on her nose and another soon followed. Quickly, she started back towards the house, not eager to get soaked. Her heart sank. The house was considerably further away than she had thought. Grimly, she slogged forward through the increasing amount of rain and mud.

Her hair and clothes became saturated in the icy rain and she had to clench her teeth tight to prevent them from chattering. Finally, she stumbled to the house. With numb fingers, she reached out to touch the door. Before they reached the handle, it swung open.

* * *

He reached for her quickly, enfolding her slight and shivering body into a large towel. Inwardly he cursed her stubbornness while he settled her in front of a raging fire. The last few minutes of anticipation had been the worse. He had busied himself with preparing all that she would need when she reached the door, fetching towels, hot water, and building up the fire. Now he poured hot tea down her throat, hoping it would thaw her frozen body.

Slowly, he felt her warming. Exhaustion crept in, and she slept. Severus relaxed too. Hopefully, she did not catch pneumonia. He cleaned up the used towels and hot water, silently debating if he should leave her or move her to a room. He decided a bed would probably be more comfortable but was at a loss in moving her. Should he carry her? That seemed wrong to him, even though he was only trying to see to her needs. He struggled with himself, then awkwardly picked her up, cradling her against his chest. She didn't stir at all.

He started toward the blue room, and then settled her gently on the bed. Her clothes were still a bit damp, though the fire had dried most of the water. Her face was paler than usual, but not completely colorless. Her hand was curled into a fist and tucked under her cheek, cradling her head. She looked so innocent and sweet curled up in bed. He stared at her, wondering if this was the annoying student he had taught for seven years. In all those years, he had never truly looked at her. She was just that girl who was the best friend of Harry Potter, who also happened to be an annoyingly Gryffindor girl and a Know-It-All at that. Three strikes against her.

Naturally, he had gone out of his way to make her life miserable.

Now he began to reevaluate her. Yes, she was annoyingly Gryffindor, hot tempered at times, though she did manage to keep a clear head, courageous, and loyal. But she also had a brilliant mind. One, he suspected, might rival his own one day. She was hardworking and a perfectionist, almost to a fault. She was persistent and determined. He smiled a bit wryly, remembering the all the times she had come to pester him with questions or badger him for points. All in all, he realized, she was not the typical student. In fact, she reminded him very much of himself at her age. Perhaps that was another reason he had disliked her so much.

When he had been in school, he'd had few friends. Mostly, he had preferred to keep to himself, studying while the rest of the students were playing. The only interruptions in his solitude had come from the infamous four. Of course, he had hated them. James most of all. He never seemed to work for anything, but excelled at all. The teachers and students alike adored him, worshipped him. And he supposed he had been jealous. But it had all been so long ago. He didn't really hold a grudge against Harry for his father. It was only that Harry also received the same worshipful attention. Attention he did not deserve. He grudging admitted that perhaps Harry had proved his capabilities, but he was nonetheless an impulsive hot head.

Hermione stirred and his attention came back to her. He brushed back a few locks of her hair, checking her forehead for feverishness and finding it a little warm. He frowned in worry, drawing the covers over and around her, tucking them in neatly. He made to leave the room, but paused in the doorway, staring at her for a long time, his head swimming with his sudden revelations.

With a soft sigh, he dimmed the lights.

* * *

Hermione awoke, not cold and shivering, but comfortably warm and fuzzy. She stretched luxuriously, feeling the softness of the pillow beneath her cheek and the fine weave of the fabric beneath her fingers. She let out a loud yawn, slowly sitting up and blinking sleepily. She looked down at her clothes, horribly wrinkled from last night.

She blinked again as she recalled the events. How on earth had she managed to crawl in to a bed? Then she blushed as the answer came to her. She shook her head vigorously, trying to erase the image that came to mind.

Good Merlin, how embarrassing. She tossed back the covers, wishing she had a change of clothes to wear.

The reminder of exactly why she didn't made her narrow her eyes. Yes, as soon as they got back, she was going to give the Headmaster a good telling off. She opened the closet, wondering if there were any clothes at all she could wear. Surprised, she saw that it was filled with feminine clothes, all in her size. Slightly mollified, she rummaged through them, amused to find several unconventional additions, such as sexy lingerie and a backless, strapless dress.

"My, my, my," she murmured as she held up one of the scraps of cloth, "are we jumping the gun here. Too bad we have no inclination to indulge you."

She stuck it back and pulled out a plain cotton shirt and a pair of jeans. She took them into the huge bathroom, where she soaked in the tiled bathtub big enough for four people and extravagantly used all the lotions, creams, and soaps piled on the counter. After all, why not enjoy it since she was stuck here?

Her earlier anger had turned into a resigned acceptance and amused indulging. After all, he would have to release them sooner or later. And she was confident that for all his plans, neither she nor Snape would fall in line. With a chuckle, she pictured how frustrated Dumbledore would be if they simply ignored everything he did to them and continued with their normal activities. She would deal with it for one year. And then…she smiled. Dumbledore was going to get a taste of his own medicine. Humming, she finished dressing and went in search of food. Her happiness faded slightly as she found Snape in the sunny yellow kitchen sipping tea.

"Good morning," she said cautiously. "Thank you for taking care of me last night. I'm sorry I acted without thinking."

He only nodded, staring out the window. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed at his reaction. She couldn't read his face or anything from his actions. For the first time, she deliberately touched their bond, clumsily manipulating it. He seemed to be struggling with something within himself. Suddenly he stood up and walked out without a word.

She eyed him curiously. What was wrong with him?

* * *

Revised 11/07/2004


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

  
  


Severus retreated to his room, one that was completely done in different shades of green. He sat heavily on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands. What was he to do? Suddenly he had begun thinking of her as a person! A real, living person, who had her own thoughts and feelings, and did not live solely to annoy him. Partly perhaps.

He did not like her any more than he had a week ago; she was after all, still the same annoying girl. But for the first time, he had not thought of her as part of a group, not just one of the students or Harry's friend, but as Hermione Granger. The difference was slight, but profound.

Now how was he to treat her? Treat her like a student, he told himself sternly. Just because he had suddenly realized she was a person did not make her different. He had the feeling that if he was ever to return to normal, he had to pretend he had never thought of her any differently. Composed now, he stepped outside again, ready to face her.

He found her in the small study reading a book. "Miss Granger," he said stiffly, "we need to talk."

She put the book down reluctantly. "Yes? Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing." He shifted uneasily. "I want to discuss our current situation."

"Well then." She gestured towards the overstuffed chair facing hers.

He took a seat, wondering at her composure. She seemed completely uncaring. "I realize that both of us have had a difficult time these few weeks. Partly out of my own refusal to talk it over. However, I fear we must now. I apologize for the Headmaster's actions. He has over stepped all bounds and acted completely irresponsibly."

"No, please don't," she said suddenly. "It wasn't your fault so you shouldn't apologize. I know that you are a victim of his manipulations as much as I am."

"Thank you," he said, a little surprised that she didn't hold him responsible too. "But as it has already happened, I propose we try and…make it less painful for ourselves. As it seems obvious he will continue to be a nuisance, I think it would be wise for us to understand each other." He waited for his words to sink in.

"In other words, become allies?"

"I wouldn't put it exactly that way, but, yes."

She nodded thoughtfully. "My battle is not against you." 

Severus gave a sigh of relief. "As for what we do, we should just wait him out. I'm sure that after a while he will have to give up."

"That was what I was thinking," Hermione said. "But now I have a better plan. What do you say we let him think his plan has worked?"

"What?" He almost jumped out of his chair.

"Think about it. He'll see that it worked and then leave us alone." She leaned forward, musing aloud. "He'll be dancing with joy. All we have to do is spend a little time together and give the impression that we are close." At his horrified look, she hastened to add, "I didn't mean lovers! That ought to satisfy him don't you think?"

"Or it could backfire and he wouldn't give up until he saw us married." But he was thinking as well and couldn't see how it would make it any worse. They could always abort the plan. "What about your friends? How will they feel when people start talking about us?"

"I'll tell them of course," she said dismissively. "And I don't care what anyone else says. Does that mean you'll go along with the plan?"

He shrugged. "What harm can it do? Yes."

"Good." Her eyes gleamed. "Now I can finally get you to approve my study on the Cruciatus Curse."

"Haven't we already been over this? Absolutely not." He folded his arms forbiddingly. "Greater witches and wizards have failed before you trying to develop a defense against the curse. As your professor, I have the duty to protect you from such dangers."

"Why not?" she argued. "It would benefit the Order of the Phoenix and weaken Voldemort's weapons. It could mean the difference between the outcome of the war!"

"You're too young. Besides, it is not your battle."

"Yes, it is," she insisted. "Harry could die, I could die, and everyone else could too! How can you say it's not my battle? Besides, it wouldn't be dangerous if you helped me. And it would give us an excuse to spend time together and continue the illusion of complying with Professor Dumbledore's wishes." 

"Assuming we ever get back. But I will consider your proposal," he said, clearly not intending to consider it much at all. 

He could feel her frustration, even as she lapsed into silence. She picked up her book, but he knew she wasn't reading. Curiously, he asked her, "What book were you reading?"

He saw her lips curl in a small smile. "You'll think it's absolutely frivolous and completely unlike me," she said ruefully, "and you'll be right. I usually don't read these things. But since it was on the shelf…"

As she babbled, he grew more and more curious. She was amused at herself and also embarrassed, but not as if he had caught a dark secret. "And it's about?"

Wordlessly, she handed it over. The cover featured a strong, masculine man only wearing trousers holding a beautiful woman wearing equally as much. Their eyes were closed as they embraced and kissed passionately. "Oh. You're right. I wouldn't have pictured you as the type to read these…novels," he said in disgust.

~~~

She laughed at the disgust in his tone. "They aren't that bad," she offered. "Some of them actually spend time on characterization and building their relationship before they jump into bed." She clapped a hand over her mouth, shocked that she had actually said that to a professor. To Professor Snape, of all people!

He regarded her shocked expression with a slight incline of his head. "As you were saying?" he prompted, handing the book back to her.

"Never mind," she said mortified.

"No, I'm very interested in your opinion Miss Granger. Why do women like to read these things?"

"My opinion?" she asked cautiously, knowing she was stalling for time.

"Yes," he nodded. "Pray, explain the attraction of such nonsense to me."

She thumbed through the book, realizing he would only keep pressing her for an answer. She wondered why he was so interested. Perhaps he was bored and wanted only to understand it from a purely intellectual point of view. "Well," she began slowly, organizing her thoughts. "It's not only women who read these books, or for that matter, who write them."

"Really."

"Romance isn't a pursuit only restricted to one gender or age. It exists no matter how old, young, or smart a person is. It doesn't only mean 'love' and all the trimmings; it can be idealized things or ideas. Don't tell me you've never had a romantic thought in your life," she accused. "I won't believe you."

He looked at her with amusement, "I do believe that you are the romantic, Miss Granger."

"Yes, I am one," she agreed with aplomb, "but that doesn't mean I can't see the world through transparent glass. You still haven't answered me."

He ran his fingertips along the sleek, glossy edge of the table top, tracing the pattern of the wood idly. "I will admit to a time, a very brief time, that I was…shall we say, inspired by the greater philosophies. Fortunately, it did not last long," he smiled grimly, darkly.

"Any how," she continued smoothly, "to explain the attraction of romance is hard. I suppose most of us are drawn to the books because that is a reality we can safely explore and except without consequence and very little doubt. It is a place you can lose yourself and allow that romance to flourish, when it would wither and die in real life."

Severus looked at her again, as if contemplating her words very seriously. "I change my mind," he said at last, "you are not a romantic but a cynic."

She shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with either of them. There's a time for each. I know that nothing in life is perfect, but the same rule doesn't have to apply in fiction. It can be 'perfect' in the way you wish for it to be."

"But if there was no parallels, who would want to read it? For that matter, if it were perfect, where would the enjoyment be?"

"I didn't say that, I said they aren't the same. In a very real sense, fiction is not realistic. It is too logical. Real life could never be plotted out that way. Something disastrous and totally illogical would happen in the mist of it that no reader would believe could happen. I meant perfect in the sense that everything follows the course the author has set; the ending is 'perfect' whether it is happy or sad. As for enjoyment…You read books for enjoyment?" Hermione asked a little surprised. "I would have though it would only be for research."

"I have been known to read occasionally," he said dryly, "something besides _The Standard Book of Potions and Spells_."

"Naturally," she replied archly, "it wouldn't be the _standard_ book. And if that is true, then read this." She tossed the book back to him. "It's quite good, despite its slightly tacky cover."

"For what purpose?" he asked, handling the book gingerly.

"To prove that you don't, can't enjoy it."

He snorted rudely. "I can prove that without even reading a page of it."

"But that wouldn't be conclusive would it? Since you haven't even conducted any experiments?"

"Fine, fine. I will read it," he said curling his lip in a sneer, "But if you ever, ever get the urge to tell someone about this, I will deny it to my last breath."

She nodded solemnly, her eyes bright with laughter. "Agreed." 

~~~ 

Revised 10/25/2003


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

  
  


"But it doesn't make sense at all!" Ron protested. "Why would Dumbledore suddenly send Hermione on a research project? And why didn't she say anything to us?"

Harry only nodded thoughtfully.

It was now eight o'clock in the evening and they hadn't seen Hermione for the entire day. During breakfast, they, along with everyone else, had been informed that Hermione had been excused for two weeks to assist on a research project. Something about "long-term interactions between individuals confined in one spectral composition of light." Whatever that was.

"Isn't it strange," he replied slowly, deliberately, "how Snape isn't here either?" 

Ron looked up sharply. "What are you getting at?"

"It's nothing. But I very much look forward to Hermione's version of the story. And just what Dumbledore isn't telling us," he said casually but with an underlying edge.

~~~

"What is the meaning of this, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall asked threateningly calm, her hands held tightly together. Her lips were compressed into a thin, unyielding line. "I, for one, haven't heard of any such research project. And the half-assed purpose of the research was ridiculous!" She brought herself rigorously under control again. "I demand to know the truth of the matter."

"The truth?" he asked benignly.

She pinned him with a cool stare. "What do you take me for? A fool? I know you are planning something and I refuse to let you drag Hermione into it. I want to know what you've done with the girl. And then I want you to undo it."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Minerva," he sighed, "it is quite important this happens."

"What is so important? Why?"

He stayed stubbornly closed mouthed.

"All right. Out with it or else I tell everyone about the time you-"

He winced. "I give up." He held up his hands in surrender. "I'll tell you. But you must not say anything or interfere."

McGonagall sat back with a smug smile. "We'll see."

~~~

Severus Snape, Professor of Hogwarts, Potions Master, most feared and hated greasy git on the face of the earth, sat staring at the book in his hand with a look of absolute distaste. His features were twisted into a grimace, almost that of pain. With great reluctance and a sniff, he lifted the corner of the cover with two fingers.

"Surely I don't have to read the whole thing." He found himself thinking desperately. "Maybe I could just read a few pages and bluff my way through."

With that notion firmly in mind, he flipped through it, idly scanning the pages. Presently, he found himself relaxing and just allowing the words to flow over him. For the first time in his life, he found out what it felt like to read with no pressure or stress. He was not reading it for knowledge, for understanding, or even for enjoyment. He didn't expect to gain anything from it. And that made the difference.

He found himself snorting derisively at the characters' stupid antics. Merlin help us, he thought, rolling his eyes upwards, save us from all the stupid people. The heroine was supposedly an intelligent, unconventional woman of her time, but behaved like an absolute nitwit who rushed into trouble without thought. The hero was a macho, domineering animal who couldn't wait to jump back in bed. Worst of all, they just could not admit that they loved one another.

His eyes nearly popped out when he got to the steamy love scenes. Not so much as the actions themselves, but at the fact that Hermione Granger and who knew how many other students and women read such things. To his mortification, he found his ears warming at the realization. All of them, reading it and thinking.what? Probably much of what he was thinking of, he admitted to himself. Suddenly, he recalled the time he had stumbled upon McGonagall reading a book. She had hidden it quickly, almost guiltily. At the time, he hadn't though anything of it. Now he wondered. Had she been reading a sister of the book he was holding in his hand? Quickly, he banished the images it conjured.

He found himself feeling a twinge of sympathy for his archenemy. He, of all people, should understand the feeling of loneliness. For years, it had been his only companion. Abruptly, he could understand the appeal of such books.

He finished the book, satisfied with the corny conclusion. For the first time, he noticed how dark the room had become. He must have spent hours absorbed in the novel. He settled back in his chair, not at all upset that he had wasted the better part of the day. He had enjoyed it. Not that he would ever admit it.

~~~

Professor McGonagall sat back with a frown, her arms folded across her chest. "You seriously expect me to believe that load of tripe?"

"Umm...Yes?" Dumbledore said hopefully.

"No," McGonagall said firmly. "Try again. And this time, leave out the talking bananas."

~~~

Hermione peeked into study, ready to announce that dinner was ready. Her mouth froze before she could say a word. Her eyes widened. He was reading it!

Correction: He had read it. As she watched, he finished the last page and set it down. She waited anxiously for his reaction. Would he frown and look around in boredom? Or would he smirk and lazily inform her that he had won?

He settled back in his chair, a faint smile appearing on his lips. He looked.relaxed. Finally, Hermione couldn't bear it any more.

"How was it?" she asked apprehensively.

He tensed, a hardness suffusing his face until he realized who had spoken. Still, he did not completely relax his guard. "How was what?" he said, being deliberately obtuse.

"The book." She waved her hand impatiently. "Well?"

"Oh, that," he said looking at the book indifferently. "It was all right."

Hermione was disappointed. Only "all right"? She had felt that he might change his mind. In fact, she had been sure he would. Her eyes narrowed. "You're lying. It was more than 'all right' wasn't it? You enjoyed it," she accused, "and don't you dare deny it."

He gave a sigh but did not move to deny or confirm her statement.

"At least that's one good thing that's come of it."

"One good thing?"

"Well, I know when you're lying," she pointed out.

"I don't see why you even bothered to ask then." He raised a brow. "Since you obviously know the answer."

She paused and frowned, thinking about it seriously. "I don't know." She had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I don't usually do it on purpose, you know. Sometimes I just...know," she finished lamely, shrugging.

"I suppose it is difficult not to inadvertently overhear some things," he admitted grudgingly. "Though we can produce mental barriers that allow us some semblance of privacy, they can not be maintained constantly. I trust," he said quite suddenly, "that since we have reached our agreement, there will be no more of that deliberately annoying habit of taking advantage of those things that you overhear?"

It took Hermione a moment to process what he was talking about. She smiled. "No sir, I don't believe so. If I must admit, it was becoming very tiring and trying for me too. I think we're both learned our lesson well. That we are both at each other's mercy, whether we like it or not," she finished quietly.

As always, the reminder of their situation silenced them.

~~~

"You don't have a reason."

"Why of course I do," Dumbledore replied, clearly affronted. "I have a reason for everything I do. It may not be a good reason, but reason is reason nonetheless."

"Does it have anything to do with the Last Battle." Somehow, it was not a question.

He hedged a little. "That is a question, right? Doesn't that make this the fifteenth one you've asked?"

"No, Albus, you're not getting around me so easily. I only asked you ten questions, I still have ten left. Yes, that was a question, now answer it."

~~~

"Well, it's late," Severus said at last, "and now that I have answered your questions to the entirety, we should retire. Tomorrow will be soon enough to find a way out of this bizarre house."

Hermione nodded and he left the room, presumably heading for the his bedroom. She took the abandoned romance book and scanned the crammed bookshelves for the right spot to stuff it back in. J...K...L...She squeezed the dogged eared and creased paperback next to others of the same quality and author, noticing, as she did so, a very interesting fact. Without conscious violation, she grinned and an almost silent chuckle escaped her lips.

One of the books was missing.

~~~

A/n: My sincere apologies to everyone. X_X You know how it is. Real life + Writer's block = No story. Anyways, please expect an update in about three weeks, I have winter break coming. :) I want to try very hard and finish this story (long way off) as I have a habit of getting stuck in the mud. Feel free to give me a shove or a hand anytime.

BTW: As more observant people probably notice, my author notes at the end of the original chapters get replaced. This invariably happens when I go back and revise errors. The a/ns become the revision dates...just a note for the bored and curious!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

She didn't say a word about it the next morning. It was enough that she knew. After a surprisingly edible breakfast prepared by Severus, they set off exploring the house again. This time they examined every inch, even going as far as to taking a few pieces of furniture apart. They combed through the two bedrooms carefully but found nothing more suspicious than a box of contraceptives in the bedside table along with a note. Better to err on the side of caution. They went through all two hundred and twenty-one books in the study, checking for a secret port key, only discovering (to their horrified amusement) that four of them were manuals for making love. Then they resumed their search in the pink living room and sunny kitchen. Seemingly normal except for the temperamental dishwasher, finally they had to conclude that there were no hidden escape hatches or false walls.

"Okay, so let me get this straight. He's got the place rigged with Anti-Apparating spells, no Floo, no port keys, and a door that appears to lead outside but doesn't allow a person to venture off the property. What sort of crazy house is this?" Hermione cried in frustration. "Argh. He has to send us back sometime, but I can't stand staying here, _against my will_ and _with nothing to do but wait_."

Severus waited a beat while she calmed down. "I'd say that about sums up everything."

Hermione gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I know you're feeling the same way. In truth, I didn't think we'd find anything either. So now what do we do?"

He shrugged. "We could investigate some of those...interesting books in the study. Or we could start plotting our revenge."

Hermione plopped down. "Revenge sounds like a good idea. I could spend hours devising different tortures and not be bored. I already came up with some pretty ones."

"Really. Let's hear them."

They sat down and started comparing ideas, some of them surprisingly similar and most of them physically impossible.

"That's my idea!" he said indignantly.

"Oh, yeah?" Hermione arched a brow in a comic imitation of an incredulous Snape. "Prove it."

"How do you prove something like that?" he grumbled. "Besides, I was the one who mentioned feeding him all the booger, vomit, and artichoke flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."

"Only after I mentioned stuffing a keg of salted pickles, followed by chilly, garlic, and sour lemons guaranteed to burn, down his throat."

"The idea has merit," he admitted. "I don't see why we can't just do both of them."

"Because..." she said, exasperated. "If we feed him the all the salted, hot, and sour things first, he won't have any taste buds left to taste the nasty beans. And if we feed him the beans first, he might actually _like_ the rest of the stuff we pour down his throat!"

"Yes, that's an issue I hadn't considered. We'll stay with your idea if you agree to mine about locking him in a room with a herd of toddlers."

"Toddlers?" She looked at him doubtfully.

"Trust me," he said sourly. "They'll make his life a living hell, especially if they're hungry, their nappies need changing, and they have no toys."

"Is that the voice of experience I hear here?"

"Now you know why I prefer to spend my holidays at Hogwarts."

She looked at his sour face and nodded thoughtfully. "Toddlers it is."

* * *

"You what?" McGonagall screeched. "You-you...In an isolated house! Alone! Together! _For no reason?_"

"I have a perfectly good excuse-"

"Oh, yes, your perfectly acceptable, logical, _reasonable_ reason!" she continued. "Which despite everything else you've said, you still haven't told me."

"Well..." He couldn't deny that.

"You leave me no choice, Albus," she sighed. "I've been playing your game, by your rules, for hours. Now it's my turn." With a flick of her hand, she blasted open the secret compartment behind a large stone carving. She floated the contents into her hand.

"Minerva!" Dumbledore gasped, absolutely horrified. "Not my precious Everlasting Lemon Drop!"

She ignored him and turned to the fire. She held the large golden ball threateningly over the blazing flames. "I didn't want to do this. But it seems like when one is dealing with a child, one must bribe or resort to threats. Personally, I find that taking away their toys is the most effective."

Already, the ball was starting to melt. Drops of sticky, sugary lemon syrup dripped down the sides. One drop fell into the fire, sizzling noisily in warning. "All right, all right!" Dumbledore said in panic.

"Start talking," McGonagall ordered. "And talk fast."

"Severus, well, you know how he is. Withdrawn, moody, bad tempered, irritable, snarky, judgmental-"

McGonagall tossed the enormous lemon drop lightly in the air. Dumbledore winced. "The point is, he's also intelligent, extremely honorable, responsible, and charming when he wants to be."

"He has his moments," McGonagall allowed. "Go on."

"Well, he's not a bad man, only aloof and alone, hiding in his dungeon all day and snapping at anyone who comes close. He seems to exist day by day, never thinking of the future. Of his future. Then suddenly he was behaving even more terrorizing than usual to our Miss Granger. And I thought, 'Finally! He actually takes in interest in something besides Potions!' Of course, it was negative attention. If I could find some way to turn it positive..."

Forgetting the lemon drop, McGonagall turned around in disbelief. "So you decided to play matchmaker."

"They just needed a little push," he said defensively.

"A _little push_? Is that what you call it? How could you do that to them without permission? Or," she said with what came perilously close to a pout, "without telling me?"

"You would have stopped me."

"No. I would have come up with a better plan. Which is why you should have just told me everything in the first place." She returned his goggling stare coolly. "What? Am I blind? It's obvious that Severus is just in denial and covering up his feelings. Don't they say that there's only a thin line between love and hate? And my Hermione. I'd wager she feels something more too. Granted, there's a scattering of age and experience between the two of them. But Hermione can handle it. She's mature for her age and tenacious when she grabs hold of a notion." She nodded. "Yes, they'll do," she said in satisfaction.

Dumbledore just continued to goggle at her as she sat down and sipped her tea.

* * *

"Ron," Harry said suddenly.

"What?" he asked absently, absorbed in the newest addition of _Quarterly Quidditch_.

"Ron, we have to find out what's happened to Hermione."

He put down the magazine reluctantly. "I guess we should. I don't really trust that twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes anymore."

"Me neither." He paced back and forth. "When was the last time you saw Hermione?"

"Um...Right after dinner, I think. Something about History of Magic notes." He smiled sheepishly. "Oh, I asked her if I could copy hers as she's the only one who can manage stay awake in his class."

"I saw her before I went to bed. Around ten or eleven. She was still in the common room, 'putting the finishing touches,' as she says, on her Potions essay. And then in the morning, she was gone."

Ron nodded. "So something must have happened between eleven and seven in the morning."

"Wait a second, wait a second!" Harry said excitedly. "I remember! She said she had to do something else before she went to bed. Argh. What was it?" He snapped his fingers.

"More homework? Crookshanks? Meeting a boyfriend in the Astronomy Tower?"

"That's it!" Harry shouted. "The Astronomy Tower!"

"What? Hermione has a boyfriend?" Ron asked in outrage. "And I didn't know?"

"No, you idiot," Harry said, sparing a glare as a triumphant grin broke out. "She had to patrol the Astronomy Tower for Dumbledore."

* * *

Revised 11/7/2004


End file.
